


Come Up For Air

by Joanne_Lupin



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Violence, Poor Kev, and i don't have a resolution for it planned, basically dealing with what happens in canon but not played for laughs, it's kinda blink-and-you-miss-it, shit's fucking sad y'all, side Arnaba, side Churchtarts, well an attempt anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8007577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joanne_Lupin/pseuds/Joanne_Lupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one knows exactly how, or what rules govern it, but when you need them most, that's when they appear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on: [this fic](http://wheeloffortune-design.tumblr.com/post/148435605505/au-where-you-can-summon-your-soulmate-to-you-once) from the Check, Please! fandom.
> 
> TW for rape\sexual assault in later chapters.
> 
> Title from "Miracle Mile" by The Cold War Kids

When Kevin Price is nine years old, his family takes a trip to Orlando, Florida. It’s the happiest he’s ever been, and the happiest he can imagine ever being. 

While they’re in line for Splash Mountain, Kevin closes his eyes tight and balls up his fists.

“Kevin, honey, what are you doing?” his mother asks him.

“I’m wishing for my soul mate,” he tells her. “I want her to have fun like we are.” (He knows his soul mate could be a he, but his father’s soul mate is his mother. A boy and a girl. That’s how most of the couples at church are, too. He guesses his soul mate will be a girl. He guesses he’s okay with that, even if Katelyn teases him about how much he reads and Christie always keeps a strand of her hair in her mouth.)

His mother chuckles. “You don’t summon your soul mate when you _want_ her; you summon her when you _need_ her.”

“Maybe I _need_ her to have fun with me,” Kevin protests.

“Don’t waste your energy,” his mother says. “Heavenly Father is saving your soul mate for a special mission. She might even save your life. He wouldn’t send her just because you want her to stand in line with you.”

Kevin nods. Heavenly Father always knows what He’s doing. 

He’ll meet his soul mate some other time. For now, he’ll remember every detail. That way, he can tell her about it when they finally meet.

-o0o-

When Connor McKinley is eleven years old, he thinks he may have already met his soul mate. His name is Steve, and he has soft, dark hair and eyes that match. He’d moved to Connor’s school just before they started fifth grade, and by the end of their first week, Connor hardly leaves Steve’s side. 

Less than a year later, Connor learns that Steve is not his soul mate, and almost loses him in the process.

They’re swimming in the sort-of-lake behind Steve’s house. It’s dark. They’re not supposed to be there, so, obviously, they haven’t told anyone where they are. 

They’re trying to see who can do the most underwater flips. Connor gets to thirteen when he rights himself, gasping for air. 

His heart drops when he sees a strange, flailing silhouette. 

There’s a girl, about their age, her blond hair and her pink butterfly-patterned pajamas soaking wet. Steve is in her arms, his head lolling to one side against her chest. 

“Help me!” she shrieks as she struggles to keep Steve above water. Connor swats her away, taking her place at Steve’s head.

“Support his legs,” he says. Together, they get Steve to the rocky shore of the lake.

“Someone help us!” the girl screams. “He’s not breathing! Someone help!”

As the girl cries out, Connor shakes Steve’s shoulders. “Come on, Steve, wake up…”

Steve coughs and groans. The girl is at his side in an instant. 

“Hello? Are you okay?” She touches his cheek lightly. Connor’s heart drops to the ground as Steve and the girl lock eyes.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Emily. Your soul mate, I guess.”

“Steve.”

“Steve,” Emily repeats. In the distance, Connor can hear shouting and pounding footsteps. Steve’s parents must’ve heard them.

Suddenly, Emily is gone.

Connor and Steve are both grounded for a long time— nearly the entire summer. 

Connor doesn’t see much of Steve after that. He doesn’t really want to.

-o0o-

As a teenager, Kevin hardly spares a thought to the identity of his soul mate. He’s too busy with his studies, his church duties, and his chores at home to indulge in such thoughts. 

Frankly, Kevin kind of hopes his soul mate doesn’t summon him (and he doesn’t summon her) until after his mission. There’s so much he has to do to get ready, and he simply doesn’t have time to worry about anyone else until he’s accomplished what he’s been preparing for since he was a child. 

His soul mate will just have to wait, he thinks.


	2. Chapter 2

Connor worries that he might not have a soul mate.

It’s not like it’s unusual not to summon (or be summoned by) your soul mate by nineteen, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking that maybe he’s destined to be alone. Whenever these thoughts grow too loud, he has to close his eyes and shake his head. 

_There’s no use worrying,_ he tells himself. _Turn it off._

His mission companion, a short, cheerful blond named Chris— Elder Thomas, now— tells him about his soul mate during the plane trip to Uganda.

“We’ve both summoned each other,” Elder Thomas explains as he digs around in his bag and victoriously retrieves a slightly crushed-looking Pop-Tart. “I know his first name is Christian. Chris and Christian— isn’t that funny? I hope he thinks it’s funny. That’s not really the kind of thing you laugh at when— well, I know I wasn’t laughing when I summoned him, anyway.”

“Do you… Do you wanna talk about it?” Connor asks quietly.

Elder Thomas shrugs. “The short version is that my sister died— cancer, so, you know, I _knew._ And I wasn’t there. I felt terrible about it. I didn’t… know how to handle that kind of guilt. And then… Christian was there. And that was… He’d summoned me already. But he… I needed to be reminded that there was someone out there who would love me, no matter what I’d… what happened.”

Connor wonders, silently, what the long version is. He places a hand on Elder Thomas’s shoulder. “I’m sure you had a perfectly good reason for not being there.” 

Elder Thomas grows stiff, his face twisting. “How about you?” he asks abruptly. “You met your soul mate yet?”

Connor returns his hand to his lap. “No.”

“I guess that’s good. Neither of you have had— uh, you haven’t needed each other yet.”

“I guess.”

A few weeks later, a new pair of missionaries arrives. One of them sees Elder Thomas and gasps, dropping his bag and rushing to embrace him. 

“Chris,” he gasps.

“Oh my gosh,” Elder Thomas breathes, clutching the new elder tightly. “Christian?”

“It’s me.”

Connor and the other missionary stand awkwardly to the side, watching Elder Thomas break down crying.

“Thank you,” Elder Thomas murmurs. “Thank you, thank you.”

-o0o-

Kevin’s mission companion looks like he might combust as they sit in their seats, waiting for the plane to take off. It’s the first time either of them has flown, and Kevin concentrates on keeping a straight, confident face. His knuckles are white on his armrest. 

“I think I might meet my soul mate on this trip,” Elder Cunningham tells him conspiratorially. Even his secretive stage whisper is loud and, Kevin thinks with a wince, very, very grating. “She summoned me, a few years ago. And I couldn’t tell exactly where she was, but… I’m pretty sure it wasn’t America, you know?”

Mostly because he needs the distraction, Kevin asks, “What happened? When she summoned you?”

“Oh my gosh, Elder Price… It was so sad… It was the middle of the night, and I couldn’t fall asleep. I was just having such a hard time. And then, all of a sudden— _poof!_ — I was somewhere totally different, and it was daytime, and there’s this girl who’s just _screaming_ , and a woman, a huge guy with a gun— and he’s _naked,_ isn’t that weird? But yeah. The woman was out in front of us, like, blocking us from the naked guy. And she’s telling us to go, but the girl isn’t running. She’s just standing there, screaming. So I take her hand, and I pull her back, just, the opposite way from where the naked guy is. I’m not, y’know, a great runner, but I ran _so fast_ that night. And we heard a shot. I was so scared! But I kept running, pulling this girl along so that the guy didn’t get her. And in the distance, I saw this other guy running toward us, and he was shouting something. It didn’t sound like English, so I couldn’t really understand it. But the girl shouted back, she said, ‘Baba,’ and I think that sounds like ‘Papa,’ so I figured it was her dad. And then I was back in my bed.”

Elder Cunningham is a little out of breath after this, his arms fluttering back into his lap after their wild gesticulations during his story. It’s certainly something to occupy Kevin’s mind. He sets a hand on his companion’s shoulder.

“Wow… Do you think the woman survived?”

Elder Cunningham shrugs. “I don’t know. I hope she did…” He frowns, his eyebrows crinkling together behind his glasses. “Maybe I should’ve grabbed her, too… I don’t know…”

“You did what you could, Elder. You probably saved that girl’s life. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

Elder Cunningham sighs. “I’m always messing things up; I’m always forgetting something. What makes this any different?”

“There’s always something more you can do,” Kevin mutters. It’s a mantra he’s drilled into his head over and over again, but a standard he doesn’t expect of anyone else. 

“I guess there is,” Elder Cunningham replies sadly.

-o0o-

It’s not _their_ fault they haven’t gotten any baptisms; they’ve tried everything they’d learned in training, but their recruitment techniques just aren’t effective in the harsh reality of Ugandan life. 

Their mission— _Connor’s_ mission— is in trouble. 

Connor had received brief descriptions of the new recruits, elders Arnold Cunningham and Kevin Price. Connor knows that Elder Cunningham will be a bit troublesome, but Elder Price should more than make up for it, if the leader of the newbies’ MTC is to be believed.

“Elder Cunningham has an… active imagination,” he’d told Connor. “He’s not the sharpest nail in the box, to be honest. Elder _Price,_ on the other hand. Now, _there’s_ a good Mormon boy. Bright, obedient, motivated… He’s definitely up to the challenge of being placed in such a… _difficult_ area.” 

Connor really hopes he’s right. District Nine hasn’t had a single baptism in the history of its existence, and if this doesn’t change soon, they may very well be sent home. The thought sends a shiver of dread down Connor’s spine. His parents aren’t exactly thrilled about his interest in musical theatre or his fondness for tap dancing; coming home a disgraced missionary may well be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

_Well. Let’s just hope this Kevin Price is as incredible as they say he is…_


	3. Chapter 3

Three large men with guns are rifling through their luggage. 

“Stop! You can’t—!” Kevin shouts, breaking off in a whimper as the men point their guns right at his face. His eyes slam shut.

“Just take it!” Elder Cunningham cries. There’s a rush of motion around them, then stillness.

“Are they gone?” Kevin asks, hesitantly opening one eye.

“Yeah,” says Elder Cunningham. Kevin takes a proper look around; everything’s gone. “Elder Price, that was the naked guy! The guy who was gonna hurt my soul mate!”

“Ah, you must be the new missionaries! I am Mafala Hatimbi. ” 

Kevin spins around and sees a jovial, authoritative-looking man. “Oh, thank goodness! You can help us! Those men just stole our luggage.”

Mafala nods. “That will happen around here.”

“But… Can’t you do something? You could… You could call the police!”

Mafala bursts out laughing. “The police are three days’ drive away!”

“Well, then what are we supposed to do?” Kevin asks him.

“Nothing!” Mafala replies. “ _Hasa diga Eebowai!_ ”

Elder Cunningham picks this moment to pipe in. “ _Hasa… dasa…_ What was that?”

“ _Hasa diga Eebowai!_ It’s something of a saying around these parts. For when something bad happens— And believe me, something bad is _always_ happening around here.”

“ _Hasa diga Eebowai,_ ” Arnold repeats, slowly. “That’s fun!”

A girl appears then, sprinting toward the three of them. “ _Baba!_ You were supposed to tell me when the new white boys arrived!” 

“They just got here, Nabulungi! I was telling them our phrase— the General took their luggage.”

The girl— Nabulungi— catches up to them, wrapping Mafala in a one-armed hug. She raises her other arm skyward and— to Kevin’s utter shock— sticks out her middle finger. “Ah! _Hasa diga Eebowai!_ ”

Kevin says, “I’m sorry, wha—?”

Elder Cunningham cuts him off. “Oh my gosh.”

Cunningham is staring at Nabulungi, who stares right back. “It’s you,” she breathes. 

Kevin opens his mouth again, but before he can speak, Mafala gasps. “This is the boy? The one who saved you from the General?”

“It _is_ you, isn’t it?” Nabulungi asks.

“I— I think so. There was a naked man with a gun?”

Nabulungi nods. “General Butt-Fucking Naked.”

“Wha—?”

“And there was a woman?”

“My mother.”

“Did she—?”

Nabulungi shakes her head. “I am afraid she passed away that day.”

Elder Cunningham reaches out, tentatively offering a hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Taking the hand, Nabulungi says, “It is okay. _Hasa diga Eebowai._ ”

“Ah, yes. Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, but— what exactly does that phrase mean?” 

Everyone turns to stare at Kevin. 

“Well…” Mafala says after a tense moment. “‘ _Eebowai_ ’ means ‘God.’ And ‘ _hasa diga_ ’ means ‘fuck you.’ So I guess in English it would be—”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got it,” Kevin says, flinching. “And that is… _very_ inappropriate. You really should not be saying that.”

“Why not?” asks Nabulungi who, understandably, looks a bit miffed at having her meet-cute interrupted by a moralizing white boy.

“Well, Heavenly Father always has a plan. So, you know, things aren’t always as bad as they seem.”

“Oh _really_?” Mafala says, crossing his arms with a dismissive sort of smile. “You know, last week a man in our village was caught trying to rape a baby.”

“What?! Why?” 

“Some people in his tribe think having sex with a virgin will cure their AIDS. There aren’t many virgins left, so some of them are turning to babies.”

“But— But that’s horrible!” Kevin gasps, clutching the Book of Mormon in his pocket.

“I know! Tell me, white boy: what do you say when terrible things like this happen every day?”

Kevin takes out his book, flipping through highlighted and annotated passages. “Well, I don’t—” 

Elder Cunningham places a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “Let it go, Elder Price. They’ll be expecting us at the mission, anyway.”

Kevin nods, pocketing his book. “You’re right. We will have plenty of time to talk about this later— and we _will_ be talking about it. It’s been a pleasure to meet both of you.” He offers his hand, first to Mafala, who shakes it vigorously, and then to Nabulungi, who does the same. 

“I can show you to the mission hut,” Nabulungi offers, smiling shyly at Elder Cunningham. 

“That’d be cool,” Elder Cunningham replies, redness spreading across his cheeks.

Kevin thinks he’ll spend much of his time here being a third wheel.

-o0o-

Connor has always been good at keeping himself composed. In truth, he feels his emotions rather strongly, but wearing your heart on your sleeve isn’t very good for your health when you’re a young, sports-repulsed boy growing up in the Midwest, so Connor quickly learned to perfect his poker face, to tamp down his emotions when he or anyone else deems them “unacceptable.”

So when a man with soft-looking dark hair and eyes to match (even if they look rather exhausted at the moment) walks into the mission hut, Connor allows himself only a second of shock before he pulls himself together, leading the other elders in a welcoming party of sorts.

“Hello! You must be one of the new recruits! I’m Elder McKinley, the coordinator for District Nine. Where’s your companion?”

The man accepts Connor’s offered hand. His badge marks him as Elder Price. 

_Figures. He’s the perfect Mormon, and handsome to boot,_ Connor thinks.

“Elder Cunningham is just outside,” Elder Price says. His voice is strong and smooth and confident. “I know it goes against Rule 72 to leave my mission companion, but he’s only on the other side of the door, and he’s just met his soul mate, so I figured I could give them some privacy for just a moment.” Connor thinks Elder Price looks almost relieved to be rid of his companion. 

“I’ll allow it,” Connor says with a grin. “For now, anyway. Just because you’ve met your soul mate doesn’t mean the rules go out the window, though. Isn’t that right, Elder Thomas? Elder Church?”

“Don’t worry about your companion,” Poptarts says from behind Connor. “Elder McKinley’s tough, but he’s fair!”

As the rest of the elders introduce themselves, Elder Cunningham enters. He has a dreamy, dopey smile on his face, but he straightens up when Connor greets him. 

After everyone’s been introduced, Connor herds them all into the dining room for dinner. Somehow, he ends up sitting next to Elder Price.

“So, Elder, how was your trip?” Connor asks him politely. 

“Terrible,” Elder Price replies. “Did you notice we didn’t have any luggage? Some men from the village stole it!”

Connor nods sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s happened to a few of the other pairs. I’ll have them send over some new uniforms right away.”

“Thank you, Elder McKinley. Mr. Hatimbi wasn’t nearly as helpful.”

“He told you his phrase, didn’t he?”

Elder Price nods. “How’ve you managed to baptize _anyone_ with a crowd like that?”

Connor winces. “Well, frankly, Elder Price… We haven’t.”

“ _What?!_ ” Elder Price yelps, startling the others at the table.

“Elder Price, please—”

“No baptisms? _None?_ This is… How could—?”

“Elder Price,” Connor says sharply, “I’m sure it’s been a rough few days for you, but please, control yourself.” 

Elder Price shrinks, staring into his lap. “I’m sorry, Elder McKinley.”

“Thank you. Now, Elder… We’re all… _frustrated…_ by our position here. It’s perfectly natural that you’re feeling upset. My advice is to ignore it.”

“Ignore it?” Elder Price asks incredulously, his head snapping up.

The other missionaries nod. 

“We all do it, Elder Price,” Poptarts says.

Elder Church nods. “We just kind of…” He makes a flicking motion in the air, clicking his tongue.

“Turn it off!” they say in unison, smiling at each other.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Elder Price mutters, turning his focus on his food. 

Connor can’t help but feel a little sorry for the guy— a feeling he tells himself has nothing to do with how attractive he finds Elder Price. When he shows him and Elder Cunningham to their room that night, he pulls Elder Price aside.

“You know, Elder, your teachers at the Mission Training Center said some very complimentary things about you. They wouldn’t have chosen you for this mission if they didn’t think you were up to it.”

Elder Price fixes him with a determined gaze that makes Connor feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. “You’re right, Elder McKinley. Heavenly Father wants us to convert these Africans, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Connor grins at him, his cheeks feeling hot. “That’s the spirit, Elder! Now, get some sleep!”

Turning his back, Elder Price opens the door to his room. “Good night, Elder McKinley.”

Connor melts a little inside. “Good night, Elder Price.”

-o0o-

The night before, Elder McKinley’s hopeful expression had spurred Kevin on.

Now, he can’t bear to even imagine it.

“Africa is _nothing_ like _The Lion King!_ lot of artistic license!” 

“What the heck happened to you, Elder Price?” 

“He’s upset because he saw a couple get shot in the face,” Elder Cunningham explains. “Soul mates. She poofed in front of him, so the General shot them both!”

“I’m out of here!” Kevin shouts. Elder McKinley grabs his arm. He looks panicked.

“You can’t! Elder, we need you here! The Mission President—”

“That’s it!” Kevin grabs McKinley’s shoulders giddily. “I’ll go to the Mission President and ask for a transfer!”

He pushes Elder McKinley away and bolts out the door, ignoring the others’ shouts.

He thinks now would be the perfect time for his soul mate to appear.

_Maybe she could buy me a plane ticket…_

-o0o-

Elder Cunningham returns soon after he and Elder Price leave, wringing his hands and wearing a determined gaze that Connor, in spite of himself, registers as being several watts dimmer than Elder Price’s. Under Connor’s instruction, the other elders prepare for bed while Elder Cunningham speaks to Connor in his office. 

Connor doesn’t sleep well that night. He’s used to nightmares; he can hardly go a night without one. But with the Mission President’s request for a progress report looming over him and the sudden departure of the very man who was supposed to save them, Connor’s dreams are louder than ever. 

He’s worried, too, about Elder Price’s safety. Something in Connor’s gut wrenches at the thought of Price wandering alone through the Ugandan night. Open to the elements, a sitting duck for any of the deadly animals that could be lurking in the shadows— and not to mention the crazed warlord with a penchant for nude murdering. Elder Price could very well be in grave danger.

Not that there’s much Connor can do. The rulebook clearly states that none of them are allowed out of the mission hut after dark. They’re in enough trouble as it is, and so many rules have already been broken tonight.

In the morning, Connor assembles a search party. He’s a bit nervous about leaving Elder Cunningham to proselytize alone, but at this point, what could it hurt? It’s not like anyone else has had any better ideas. Heck, at this point, Connor’s about ready to put together a song and dance number if it’ll help them get baptisms.

District Nine is in danger. That’s why they so desperately need to get Elder Price back. That’s why Connor’s losing his head, snapping at the other elders for stupid things. That’s why worry is bubbling up through his chest and pushing at the back of his eyes. 

Because no matter what little things he notices about Elder Price, Connor is no fonder of him than he is of anyone else at his mission. 

He knows what happens when he lets himself get attached to people. It’s not fun.

-o0o-

Kevin feels like he’s fallen. The ground is suddenly at his back, and his body jerks into wakefulness. The dark, red heat of his dream is replaced by the blinding yellow of the African sun. The faces tilted toward him are much friendlier than the ones that had surrounded him in his sleep.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, Elder Price,” says Elder McKinley.

“Ah. Um. Hello, elders,” Kevin says, accepting Elder Neely’s help in standing. “Thanks. I’m, um, I’m sorry about my little meltdown last night, but I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I’ve decided I’m staying.”

Elder McKinley fixes him with that hopeful smile again. It makes Kevin feel a little sick.

“Excellent, Elder Price! What made you change your mind?”

Images from Kevin’s dream flash behind his eyes. He shudders. “You know… A lot of soul searching… Reading scripture…”

“Is that right?” Elder McKinley appraises him, looking like he knows the real reason for Kevin’s change of heart. 

Fortunately, before he can reply, they’re interrupted by Elder Cunningham’s sudden appearance. Unfortunately, it seems that during Kevin’s brief absence, Cunningham has managed to show him up in the most unbelievable way possible.

“Ten converts? Elder Cunningham, that’s amazing!” Kevin says, managing to pull up a smile after his momentary stupor. “We should prepare some exercises for them, choose some verses, maybe—”

“Hey!” Cunningham shouts. Is that panic Kevin sees on his face? Whatever it is, it’s gone a split second later. “You left me, remember? I can handle this just fine on my own.”

Kevin knows he deserves it, but the rejection still hurts. “But what about Rule 72?”

“Elder Price, maybe we should let Elder Cunningham take the lead on this one. If his methods are working, well… maybe we can bend the rules, just this once…”

Elder McKinley’s smile is fixed on Cunningham now. This time, Kevin really might be sick. 

He’s only half-listening to the rest of the conversation. 

_They don’t want me around? Fine. I’ll just have to do something else. I’ll show them what Kevin Price can do. I’ve just gotta find something even more—_

“Changing the mind of a crazy warlord? That would take something incredible!”

Kevin’s head snaps up. He grins.

_Oh, this is gonna be good…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where it gets intense. It's also the last chapter I'll be posting for a while, (like, a long-ass time) because school and stuff.

“I can’t keep following him around like a babysitter,” Connor mutters to Poptarts as they scrub the floors of the mission hut. 

Just half an hour earlier, he’d told the Mission President the good news about their new converts, and the Mission President had announced that he’d be coming to visit in a few days’ time. Now, Connor’s main priority is making sure they’re ready for his arrival. He’s so nervous, he feels almost like his very atoms are scattering.

Connor continues, “If Elder Price wants to keep running off, I won’t stop him. I have an entire district to run. It’s District _Nine,_ not District _Price._ And besides, if he’s in enough trouble, I’m sure his _soul mate_ will come get him.”

“Um, Elder McKinley…”

“What?” Connor snaps.

“I think that spot is clean enough…”

Connor looks down and realizes that he may have been cleaning a little too hard. Chips of the wooden floor’s old paint float in a puddle of suds around his brush, the bristles of which Connor has ruined with the force of his scrubbing. 

“Oh. Geez.” Connor sits back on his knees. “It’s just… Ugh, it’s a lot, you know?”

Poptarts nods sympathetically. “You’ve gotta be worried out of your mind.”

“Gosh, yes! I mean, if this visit doesn’t go well, who knows what’ll happen to the district!”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. But I was talking about Elder Price.”

Connor squints at him. “Why would you be talking about Elder Price? He’s the _least_ of my concerns at the moment.”

“So you’re saying you _don’t_ have a crush on him?” Poptarts asks.

Connor drops his brush, spluttering, “ _What_ on _Earth_ would give you that idea?”

Poptarts shrugs innocently. “You get kinda dopey-eyed when he’s around, is all. And he _is_ kinda cute…”

“You have a soul mate.”

“Christian thinks he’s cute, too.” Poptarts grins cheekily.

“He’s been around for, like, a day. How could I have a crush on him?”

“You tell me.”

Connor wants to throw something at him. “I do _not_ have a crush on Elder Price. I got my hopes up about him, is all. I thought he was going to save the district, and well, look how that’s turned out. He isn’t even here to help us get ready for the Mission President’s visit.”

“Okay. So I’m just supposed to ignore that soul mate comment?”

“What soul mate comment?”

Poptarts breaks out his “Elder McKinley” voice, which is high-pitched and vaguely posh and sounds absolutely nothing like Connor. “I’m sure his _soul mate_ will save him if he gets in trouble,” he imitates, injecting the words “soul mate” with as much venom as he could muster.

“I didn’t say it like that.”

Poptarts shrugs. “That was the gist of it, anyway.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. You mean that you’re jealous of Elder Price’s hypothetical soul mate.”

Connor glares at Poptarts, preparing his retort, but before he can open his mouth, everything around him has changed.

-o0o-

One of the few Christian stories Kevin Price had learned in Sunday school was the parable of the Good Samaritan. The way they’d described the poor man in the story had always stuck with him: beaten, bloodied, and left for dead. 

He now knows intimately well what those words mean.

His entire body aches, but Kevin is grateful for the distraction from the specific sharp stabbing inside him. The book shifts with each movement, pressing it into his insides in new and terrible ways. 

He truly has been left for dead. He’s by the side of a road, but it’s a road no one aside from himself is dumb enough to travel. He can’t walk; he can barely crawl. He can’t stop crying, even though it will just make him dehydrate faster. 

He thinks he’s going to die out here.

Suddenly, someone is there, kneeling in front of him. 

“Elder Price? Oh my gosh. I never— Oh my _goodness,_ Elder Price! What happened?”

“Elder McKinley?” he replies weakly, recognizing the auburn hair and the light blue tie. “What are you doing here?”

Elder McKinley reaches out to him, but draws back. Kevin guesses he must have flinched. 

“I don’t think I have long, but I’ll be back, okay? Where are we?”

“On the road to the G-General’s compound,” Kevin says. He hates the way he stutters.

“ _What?_ Why are you out here?” 

Kevin curls in on himself, hiding his face, whimpering when the movement sends flares of pain through his body. “Don’t tell the others,” he begs. “Don’t tell them I’m out here. Don’t tell them what happened.”

“I won’t, I promise. Elder Price, you need to tell me where you’re hurt.”

“Everywhere.” 

“Can you walk?”

“N-no,” Kevin sobs.

In his mind’s eye, Elder McKinley’s smile taunts him. He’d done this, at least partly, to see that smile directed his way. But now that McKinley’s seen him like this, he knows that will never happen again. Elder McKinley knows how pitiful and pathetic he is, now. How could anyone look at him the same way after that?

“Elder Price, look at me. Please.”

“I can’t.”

“ _Please._

Kevin tucks his head closer to his chest. 

“You’ll be okay, Elder Price. I think— I think I’ll disappear soon. But I’ll be back just as soon as I can. You’ll be okay. I’ll be back. I’ll—”

Kevin twists wildly, afraid that Elder McKinley’s sudden silence had been triggered by the arrival of someone unfriendly. Instead, he sees no one— not even McKinley himself.

Comprehension hits him. If anything, it makes him feel even worse. He hasn’t just disappointed his District Coordinator.

He’s disappointed his _soul mate_.

-o0o-

Poptarts is waiting in the exact same spot when Connor reappears in the mission hut. “So?” he asks gravely. 

“I need to go,” Connor says, standing. Poptarts rises with him.

“Can I help?”

Connor shakes his head as he darts around the mission hut, gathering some of the emergency money and a bottle of water. “He told me he doesn’t want you guys to know what happened. But— He’ll need to go to Gotswana’s. Maybe you can tell him to expect us.”

“Wait, who is it? Someone we know?” Poptarts asks, following Connor as he races out of the hut.

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Then tell me now!”

Connor sends him a brief glare before turning his focus back to the road before him.

“It was Elder Price,” he confesses.

He thinks Poptarts stalls for a moment, but then he’s back to jogging by his side. “No way! So you know where he ran off to?”

“He doesn’t want me to tell,” Connor snaps. Picturing Elder Price as he’d left him makes him want to vomit. “It’s really bad, though. He wouldn’t even tell _me_ exactly what happened, but…” He falls silent, his worry pushing him to run faster.

After a moment, Poptarts says, “Well, he’s got you. He’ll be okay.”

Connor simply nods. He skids to a halt when they get to the edge of the village, where they’ll have to split up. Poptarts stops with him.

“Tell Gotswana to expect us. Tell him Elder Price is badly injured, and he’ll need to be seen immediately. If anyone else asks about us, tell them that Elder Price just showed up at the mission hut suddenly. Or— gosh— make up a better lie, if you can. Got it?”

Poptarts nods seriously. “Good luck, Elder McKinley.”

“Thanks,” Connor says, turning away and bounding toward his destination.

There is only one person in the village who owns a car: a man by the name of Wasswa. With a lot of begging and the promise of compensation, Connor manages to persuade him to let him use it. Wasswa insists on driving, which isn’t ideal, but it’s better than no car at all. 

“When we find him, I think maybe you should stay inside the truck, unless we need help,” Connor tells him. “He was really upset when I found him. I don’t wanna overwhelm him.” 

Wasswa nods solemnly.

After several tense minutes driving down the dirt road that leads to the General’s compound, they finally spot Elder Price. He seems to have hardly moved since Connor had appeared.

The more Connor looks, the worse it gets. So he doesn’t look too closely at Elder Price’s battered, rumpled body. 

“Hey, I’m back,” he whispers, keeping his tone as calming and quiet as he can. “I’m gonna get you back to the village, okay? Can you get up for just a little bit, so we can get you into the seat?”

Elder Price sucks in a breath. “I can’t.”

“C’mon, it’s just—”

“No, I— I can’t sit.” 

_What did they do to him?_ Connor wonders, his heart sinking. “Could you lie down? We can get you into the truck bed.”

“Okay…” Elder Price uncurls himself and gingerly makes it to his hands and knees. He starts to crawl forward.

“Let me help you.”

“I can do it,” Elder Price says. Connor can hear the familiar determination in his voice, but it’s bitterer now; something’s tainted it.

“Are you sure?” Connor asks as he watches Elder Price laboriously inch toward the truck.

“Yes,” Price replies through gritted teeth. When he reaches the truck, he grasps the rear bumper with white knuckles and pulls himself upright. It looks to Connor like there might be something wrong with his legs, because Elder Price cries out when he moves them. Connor opens the hatch on the truck bed and watches Price crawl inside and curl up in a corner of the bed.

“Do you want me to sit back here with you?” Connor offers. He can’t bear the thought of leaving him all alone in there.

“Who’s gonna drive?”

“Oh. Um. Wasswa would only let us use his car if he could drive. So…”

“Oh. That’s… Okay, I guess…” Elder Price glances at him. “Don’t sit back here if you don’t wanna.”

“I want to.”

“…Okay.”

Connor snatches the water from the front, climbs in the back, closes the hatch, and tells Wasswa to start driving. He sits on the opposite side of the truck bed, remembering how Elder Price had reacted to his earlier attempt at physical contact. Still, Connor wants to reach out and hold this poor boy, to stroke his hair and tell him it will all be okay.

“Do you want some water?”

“…Not right now.”

“Okay… I have it here, if you change your mind… Do you want to tell me what happened now? Or will I have to hear it from Gotswana?”

“He won’t tell you if I ask him not to.”

“I’d still like to know,” Connor says. “If I know what happened, I’ll know how to help you.”

Kevin is quiet for a long moment. He hisses in pain with each bump in the road. Finally:

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I’m sorry I failed. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me as your soul mate. I’m sorry you have to see me like this, and you had to come rescue me.”

“Don’t say that.” Connor reaches out slowly, like he’s petting a strange dog, and takes Elder Price’s hand. “It’s not your fault.”

Elder Price laughs softly, bitterly. He lets Connor take his hand, but makes no move to return the gesture. “It _is_ , though. I was stupid enough to think I could singlehandedly convert an insane warlord. I was dumb and proud and jealous, and I got what I deserved for it.”

“ _No,_ ” Connor gasps. “You didn’t—”

“I did. I marched right into his camp and started quoting scripture. Which obviously turned out well.” Elder Price laughs again, broken and harsh. Connor isn’t laughing.

“So he beat you up?”

“…Worse.”

“Elder Price…”

Price makes eye contact with him for a fleeting second. Then he looks away again. He slips his hand out of Connor’s grasp.

“He, um. He took my book. And he… he put it… _inside_ me.”

Connor might actually vomit. He definitely does cry. “You mean— Oh my _gosh,_ Elder Price, that’s terrible! I’m so sorry.”

“ _I’m_ sorry. It’s all my fault that this happened.”

“No, it’s not.” Connor takes Elder Price’s hand again. 

-o0o-

Kevin doesn’t understand why Elder McKinley keeps trying to hold his hand. He should be disgusted with him. How could he bear to touch him?

The hand is comforting. Part of Kevin wants to reciprocate, to get closer. But he’s terrified that doing so will shatter whatever illusion is keeping Elder McKinley from seeing him as the pathetic failure that he is. 

Staring glassily at their hands, Kevin says, “You don’t need to say that just because we’re soul mates.”

“I’m not. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

Kevin doesn’t have the energy to fight him. He’ll come to his senses soon enough. 

Instead, he watches Elder McKinley’s thumb brush back and forth on the back of his hand. If he focuses intensely enough, he can disappear into this one sensation, can nearly entirely block out the pain. 

“Elder Price?” Elder McKinley says, his thumb stopping. He must’ve said something. Kevin hadn’t registered it.

“Hmm?”

“I said, I guess we should be on a first-name basis, since, you know…”

“I guess.”

“…It’s— I’m Connor… I know— they told me your name when you were assigned. Kevin.”

“Yep.” 

Kevin digests this information. On the one hand, “Connor” doesn’t carry the same authority as “Elder McKinley” does. “Connor” represents a human being, not a position— not the entire District Nine mission. On the other hand, since “Connor” is so inherently _human_ , things can cut him to the core, as opposed to the superficial disappointment felt by “Elder McKinley”— by a leader towards one of his many pupils.

It doesn’t really matter; “Connor” or “Elder McKinley”— he’s failed both of them.

He tries it out: “Connor.” Saying the name, connecting it to the thumb that has resumed its delicate motion, makes him feel a little safer. 

“Yes?” Connor replies intently. 

“Nothing, sorry. Just… testing.” A particularly rough bump jostles them, and Kevin nearly forgets to stifle his whimper. The first part of his cry escapes, but he breaks the rest of it off, clenching his jaw and, inadvertently, clamping down on Connor’s hand.

To Kevin’s surprise and relief, Connor squeezes back.

“We’re almost there— okay, Kevin? We’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” Kevin breathes. Now he grips Connor’s hand tightly each time the pain flares up. “Could you… keep talking? Tell me about… your family, or something…”

“Um. Okay. So, um… I grew up in Michigan, in— oh.” Connor’s hand twitches, but he doesn’t pull it away. “In Ferndale. Kinda close to Detroit, where the temple is. My dad works in Detroit, too, so… yeah. My mom volunteers sometimes, but she’s— she doesn’t work. My sister, Marley— she’s two-ish years older than me. She finished her mission a few months ago. In Texas. Lucky her, huh? My brother is three years younger than me, exactly. Same birthday. Which always stunk, since we had to have our parties together. His name is Sean. He’s— We’re kind of total opposites. He’s, like, an all-star athlete. And he’s so _messy_! His side of the room is nearly uninhabitable. And then we have a dog. Rupert. He’s really old. We don’t know how old, exactly. Fifteen, maybe? We got him a few years after Sean was born. He’s some kind of terrier, we guess. His spots are kind of reddish, so he definitely fits in with us kids. My parents both have dark hair, but me and Marley and Sean are all total gingers. We— oh, we’re nearly there. I can see Gotswana’s hut.”

“Okay.”

“Kevin, can you look at me?” Connor asks.

Kevin obliges. Connor’s eyes are wet and red-rimmed and full of concern.

“Will you please let me help you get out of the truck and inside Gotswana’s?”

Kevin bristles. “I can—”

“I know you _can_ do it yourself, but you don’t have to. I want to help you. Please let me do this for you.”

Connor’s earnest gaze nearly burns Kevin. He looks away. “Okay,” he says.

“Thank you.”


End file.
